Something to Talk About
by Kittie
Summary: Let's give 'em something to talk about. JB slash.


_**Disclaimer:** Pet Fly owns 'em, Garett Maggart and Richard Burgi brought 'em to life. I just borrowed them and put words in their mouths.  
**Notes:** J/B Slash! Turn back now if you don't like that idea._

**Something to Talk About  
by Kittie**

Henri Brown of the Cascade police department had always prided himself on never having started a rumor about a fellow cop. Oh, he'd spread 'em, no problem, but not once had he ever started one. He was pondering this fact one afternoon as he heard a song on the radio and a germ of an idea begin to form within his mischievous mind. If he were to be fair with himself, he debated internally, the rumors were already in abundance, so, even if he were to go through with it, he wouldn't be _starting_ any rumors that someone else hadn't already started. On the other hand, it would certainly intensify said rumors, and possibly move them from rumor to fact in the eyes of most who were privvy to it. And therein lay his dilemma.

To prank or not to prank, that was the question. Whether 'twould be nobler to keep one's mouth shut, or worth the laugh to perform the prank of all pranks, and by doing so, reign king of pranksters?

Henri smiled secretly to himself. "Long live the king, Detective Brown. Long live the king!"

The morning after. And oh, what a morning. Henri Brown could not seem to wipe the smile from his face as he witnessed the rumors flying fast and furious throughout the PD. He hadn't been sure it would work. Even after all of his planning, it still depended on a certain amount of luck; if no one heard it, what good would it do? But people _had_ heard it, more people than he'd expected, and by 9:05 a.m., even more had heard it second-hand.

He kept waiting to feel some guilt or remorse over what he'd done, even a _tiny_ twinge, but all he felt was immense satisfaction. Of course, until Ellison and Sandburg showed up, he wouldn't get the full effect of his little joke either. Maybe once he saw them, the guilt would kick in. Maybe.

As if on cue, Jim Ellison walked slowly into the bullpen, looking rather confused and annoyed. Henri clamped down hard on his impulse to burst into hysterical laughter as all conversation in the room trickled to a halt. "Hey, Ellison, how's it hangin'?" he called into the near-silence.

"Hi..." Jim took in the open stares of his coworkers for almost a full second before activating the patented Ellison glare at full-force, and the detectives of Major Crimes quickly threw themselves back into their paperwork. Jim glared for another second or two, just for good measure, and then stalked over to Henri's desk. "What the hell is going on here, H? People keep staring at me, whispering behind my back..."

Henri shrugged, trying to look innocent. "I dunno, Jim. Maybe they're just in awe of the way you cracked the Laney case last night."

Jim shook his head. "Naw, I've cracked tough cases before--"

"Exactly! You're the _man_, Ellison, Detective of the Year, our very own Superman. Of course people are gonna talk!"

There must have been something in his tone, because Ellison stared at him for a long moment, suspicion evident in his expression. "Yeah, maybe."

Henri was saved from any further scrutiny when Captain Simon Banks appeared in his doorway, scowling angrily. "Ellison! In my office, please, Detective."

He held his breath as Jim gave him one last glare before following the summons. As Jim disappeared into the Captain's office, the grin he had been trying to contain finally burst free. "Long live the king, Detective Brown! Long live the king!"

Jim Ellison knew that something was up. He hadn't been named Detective of the Year by being stupid, after all. People had been giving him weird looks all morning. First his neighbors as he was leaving the loft, and now his coworkers at the PD. The whispers they thought he couldn't hear didn't clear things up, either. No one was really saying anything specific, just things like "did you hear," and "is it true," and the occasional comment about a radio; nothing that made any sense to a confused and very annoyed detective.

Now, as he headed into his Captain's office, he wondered if this gruff summons had anything to do with whatever it was that had the whole PD in a tizzy. Oh well, only one way to find out.

"You bellowed, Sir?"

Banks shot him a glare that rivaled his own and motioned to the chair in front of his desk. "What the hell were you thinking, Jim?" was the first thing out of his mouth.

"What?" Jim, who normally prided himself on being pretty imperturbable, was taken aback by his friend's incredulous tone.

Simon shook his head. "I can understand you wanting to make some kind of statement, but this is really going to cause problems! I can't keep you two together after this, you realize that?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Simon," Jim admitted, his stomach knotting up with dread.

Simon regarded him with narrowed eyes. "You didn't dedicate a song to Sandburg last night on the soft rock radio station?"

Jim felt the floor drop out from under him. _"What!"_

_People are talking, talking 'bout people  
I hear them whisper, you won't believe it  
They think we're lovers kept under covers  
I just ignore it, but they keep saying  
We laugh just a little too loud  
We stand just a little too close  
We stare just a little too long  
Maybe they're seeing something we don't, Darlin'._

Let's give them something to talk about

Jim stared at the lyrics on the screen. After he'd finally convinced Simon to tell him what song had supposedly been dedicated "from Jim Ellison to Blair Sandburg" the night before, he'd sat down at his computer and tried to find the words on the internet. Apparently, his informal lessons with Blair had paid off, because he'd found them after only a moment or two of searching.

_Let's give them something to talk about  
How about love, love, love, love?_

"Jesus," he muttered under his breath. No wonder everybody was freaking out! Never had he seen a song that fit them so perfectly... well, except for that love part, anyway. Now that he thought about it, he'd always been aware of the rumors about them, he just hadn't given it any real consideration. People would always wonder about people like themòtwo good looking guys, close friends, worked together, _lived_ together. Hell, if it hadn't been him, he'd probably have wondered, too. And Blair's looks didn't help any. Somehow, the kid managed to be macsuline and pretty at the same time, what with his long hair and that sturdy, compact body.

Jim gave himself a hard shake. _Dammit, Ellison, quit thinking about Sandburg's body!_ Jesus... If he wasn't careful, he might actually start to wonder...

_We laugh just a little too loud_

_Yeah, probably._ Hell, when the two of them got together, they were worse than a couple of high school boys. And Blair could be damn funny when he wanted to be.

_We stand just a little too close_

_Definitely._ But he couldn't help it, it was the Sentinel thing!

_We stare just a little too long_

_Well, maybe not that part._ At least, he didn't _think_ so...

_Maybe they're seeing something we don't, Darlin'_

Hot damn, change that 'Darlin' to 'Darwin,' and you've got a winner! This was getting downright spooky.

Jim resisted the urge to print out the lyrics, instead simply saving them to his hard drive. Then he shut down his web browser and quietly left for a long lunch. A very, very, very long lunch.

Blair found him in their favorite coffee shop at a little after 4:30 p.m. He had arrived at the PD just after two, and had been informed that Jim had never returned from "lunch." Simon, after sarcastically wondering when lunch had been moved up to 10:00 a.m., had ordered Blair to locate the missing Detective and bring him back to work, so he could be properly reamed.

Jim was nursing a mug of something hot and there was a half a slice of coffee cake languishing uneaten on the table. He looked so lost and forlorn that Blair had an almost overwhelming urge to give him a big hug, but considering what had driven him here, he figured it was a good idea to refrain.

He had been surprisingly disappointed when Simon had explained what happened. He'd heard about the dedication from friends at the University, and had spent the whole day trying to decide how he felt about Jim's unexpected declaration of love. By the time he'd decided he could probably get behind it, the illusion had been shattered by harsh reality. He sighed to himself. Oh, well. He'd only decided he wanted it this morning, so surely he could stop wanting it by evening... (Jim heaved a pitiful sigh and took a sip of his drink, pink tongue snaking out to lick the remaining drops from his lips) ...Or not.

Blair slid into the seat across from his friend and snagged a piece of coffee cake. "You gonna eat this?" he asked, his mouth already full.

Jim regarded him stonily. "Yes. Give it back."

Blair stuck out a cake-covered tongue. "Wike dith?"

"For God's sake, Sandburg, swallow!"

He did, licking his lips in what he hoped was a seductive manner. "Mmm, good."

Jim just grunted. So much for seductive.

"So, you're playing hooky?"

"I'm a grown man, Sandburg, I don't 'play hooky.'"

"You're skipping work, aren't you?" He grabbed Jim's mug and took a sip, surprised to find the sweet tang of spiced apple cider rather than sharp and bitter taste of coffee.

"Yeah, I guess so," Jim agreed, snatching back his mug with a pointed glare.

"So, you're playing hooky." Blair signaled the waitress and grabbed another piece of Jim's cake. "Simon's pretty pissed, man."

Jim shrugged. "I have lots of vacation time coming to me."

"You're supposed to ask for vacation in advance."

"Sick leave, then."

"You sick? I didn't know cider and coffee cake were acceptable alternative medicines."

"You learn something every day."

"Hmm..." Blair ordered his own cider and coffee cake, then sat back in the booth and just watched Jim for a while. The older man didn't look particularly bothered. Sure, skipping work and holing up in a coffee shop weren't exactly normal behavior, but the clenched jaw that would normally signify deep inner turmoil was conspicuously missing.

"See something you like, Darwin?" Jim looked decidedly amused by his scrutiny.

"Yeah," he answered honestly, a split second before his brain caught up with his tongue. _Oh, shit._

"Hmm."

Funny, Jim didn't sound too upset by that. "Um... Jim..."

"Yeah?"

"I, uh... I heard about the, uh... song. That you didn't dedicate to me."

"Hmm."

Great, Jim was down to less-than-one-word answers. "They... some TAs, I mean... They told me about it, at the U."

"Mmm-hmm."

"So... so did they... at the PD? Is that..." He settled for gesturing expansively at their surroundings and was gratified by a nod-shrug from Jim. Apparently, they were so in tune that they could understand one another even when Jim was reduced to grunts and Blair wasn't making any sense. He made a mental note of that for future reference.

"So, who did it?" There, a full sentence. Blair gave himself a virtual pat on the back.

"Brown, I think. He was acting weird this morning." Jim considered that statement as the waitress brought Blair's order. "Well, weirder than usual."

"Hmm." His mouth was full of food, which he used as a convenient excuse to adopt Jim's language.

Now, Jim was scrutinizing him as intently as he had done earlier. "So," he asked, his eyes sliding away to stare unseeingly out the window. "What do you think?"

"'Bowwhat?" Damn, this was good coffee cake!

"You know... about..." Jim shrugged.

"Oh!" Blair gulped down what was in his mouth and considered his answer carefully. "I think, um... we could... you know..."

"Yeah?"

"Sure."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Good."

They smiled at each other, suddenly feeling goofy. Jim snagged a piece of Blair's cake.

Detective Henri Brown of the Cascade police department was feeling fine. No one had figured out it was he who had dedicated the song from Jim to Blair, and the rumors were still going strong. He walked into the office of the Major Crimes department, only to stop short, his smile fading as saw a torn paper crown sitting innocently on his chair.

His heart sinking, he turned to face Ellison's desk and saw them both there, perfect crowns on their own heads, grinning like Cheshire cats. "Long live the king, Henri," Sandburg said simply. "Long live the king."

Henri swallowed hard. "Shit."

**End**

_Something To Talk About  
Bonnie Raitt_

_People are talking, talking 'bout people  
I hear them whisper, you won't believe it  
They think we're lovers kept under covers  
I just ignore it, but they keep saying  
We laugh just a little too loud  
We stand just a little too close  
We stare just a little too long  
Maybe they're seeing something we don't, Darlin'._

I feel so foolish, I never noticed  
You'd act so nervous,  
Could you be falling for me?  
It took a rumor to make me wonder  
Now I'm convinced I'm going under  
Thinking 'bout you every day  
Dreaming 'bout you every night  
Hoping that you feel the same way  
Now that we know it, let's really show it, Darlin'.

Let's give them something to talk about  
Let's give them something to talk about  
Let's give them something to talk about  
How about love, love, love, love?

Let's give them something to talk about  
A little mystery to figure out  
Let's give them something to talk about  
How about love, love, love, love?


End file.
